Page 52 of Renard's Deliverance

And now she was going to vomit.

Opal forced herself to breathe as she glanced around the room.

She was safe.

Stefan was dead.

In the weeks after his death, the nightmares had returned. She’d kept dreaming about him coming back from the dead.

But the nightmares had eventually started to fade and she’d thought that she was finally going to be able to sleep.

Only now she was having dreams about someone being in her room.

It was fucking insane!

She was so over it.

“Stupid, stupid brain,” she muttered to herself.

She checked the clock and groaned as she saw it was one-thirty in the morning. She’d only been asleep an hour. Devon had dropped her off just after midnight, following her set.

At least she didn’t have to work today. But that didn’t help her right now. She got out of bed, feeling restless.

Maybe you should read a book? Watch TV? Drink some tea?

Nope, nope, and nope.

Now that she was awake, she was wired.

Head thumping, she walked into the kitchen before looking through into the living room.

It was a disaster.

All of the furniture from her spare bedroom was piled up in here. She hadn’t had time to remove the carpet.

Well.

No time like the present.

After getting dressed and grabbing her mask, pliers, and knife which she’d managed to get back to the hardware store to buy, she started to pull up the carpet.

* * *

God.

What an awful job.

Opal was really starting to wonder why she’d decided to do this herself. Especially when the Malones seemed to be chomping at the bit to help her.

Why not take them up on it?

Because you’re an idiot, that’s why.

She managed to roll the carpet up as much as she could, then, sweating and heaving for breath, she stared down at it.

“Well, hell.”

She needed to get it out of the bedroom at least. And she’d been hoping to get it outside. Maybe she’d be able to lift it onto her shoulder.

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